


Turn But Don't Break

by JanitorBot



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Interrogation, Jealousy, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-27 02:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanitorBot/pseuds/JanitorBot
Summary: Alia has come way too far to let someone like Dynamo ruin this for her. He’s just someone she used to know, just like Gate and the rest of the team. They’re behind her. Chances are, Dynamo will give the Hunters what they want (or not, it’s not her business) and Alia will probably never see him ever again.In which Alia and Dynamo have a past no one else knows and now it's relevant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Azaerie).



> A commissioned fic for Azaerie, who wanted the following: Alia/Dynamo with a very jealous Dynamo, Alia has a houseplant and it's the only thing she cares about (lmao)  
> Featuring: a very tired and stressed Alia, a LilShit!Dynamo, and more crime drama I've expected.

If only Signas didn’t order her to recharge early today or else Alia wouldn’t have come across _him._

Processor dangerously at the brink of short-circuiting, it takes everything for Alia to keep her stiff legs from wobbling as she walks to the elevators because she’s a professional. So what if she spent the past fourteen hours in front of the operating console and her lower half has gone creaky from maintaining her position for what’s far too long to be healthy; it’s nothing a quick E-Tank can fix.

That’s what she was thinking until the elevator doors slide open and she freezes at the first reploid that comes out.

She knows this reploid.

Long and straight pale blue hair tucked underneath a bluntly bladed helmet. Dark navy blue armor with white and golden accents and wrists locked together in shock cuffs. It’s a prisoner escort with Captain X and members of the Seventeenth Unit being the armed attendants, but the prisoner’s amused lips shatters the picture of humility.

“Well well well,” quips Dynamo, his sharp eyes lighting up underneath his red visor. He makes an exaggerated show of looking around the hallways around Alia before looking at Navigator again with a smirk. “So _this_ is where you disappeared to? What a downgrade, doc. It doesn’t suit a beauty like you,” he winks flirtatiously.

 _Oh smelt me,_ thinks Alia distantly as she feels her core dropping into her tank.

“Alia, you know him?” asks X, his widened eyes indicating his surprise.

“No,” she answers automatically. “I don’t.”

“Oof! Pretending not to know me when we go way back?” whines Dynamo, the effect dampened by his rust-eating grin. “You wound me.”

“As in I don’t know him that well,” Alia hastily rephrases, eyes stubbornly trained on X’s as if by firmly ignoring Dynamo’s presence will make him disappear. “I’ve seen him around my previous workplace a couple of times. We’re acquaintances at best.”

“Darling, you’re talented with a lot of things, but lying ain’t one of them,” laughs Dynamo. “Unless grinding gears in the janitor closet is what you do with all your ‘acquaintances’ – “

“Yes, it is,” Alia lies without a second thought – willing to say anything to shut the other reploid up. Dynamo does clamp up, eyes widening incrementally and Alia is too tired, too scared of more worse consequences than how her coworkers will see her from now – just too much of everything right now. She deliberately scans the arrested reploid up and down, and says flippantly, ” I’d ask what mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but I care more about getting a recharge in. Now if you excuse me gentlemen, I’ll be going.

She’s about to politely side step around the entourage when Dynamo suddenly leans over, blowing into her aural cone when she comes close and she jumps, slapping a hand over the side of her face as if struck. Dynamo gets hauled forcibly back into place by the guards, laughing at Alia’s crimson reaction like he received a trophy.

“Just can’t help myself!” he calls unapologetically – _that jerk!_ \- over the Hunters’ squawking as Alia nearly stumbles in her galvanized rush to the elevators. She presses the close button with more strength than needed, her power distributors thrumming during the entire ride to her floor and her walk back to her personal quarters.

Even when the door slides behind her, the blonde reploid doesn’t relax. She mechanically crosses to the other side of her room and picks up the modest watering can sitting on the window ledge. She dips the nose into her beloved calathea, the only house plant she keeps.

As Alia watches the soil turn a deeper shade of brown, her free hand balls into a fist by her side. Before she came to the Hunters for her first day on the job, she was about to stride past a flower shop when she unintentionally overheard the shopkeeper explaining what calatheas symbolized to the customer.

Despite her general disinterest in botany, Alia couldn’t help but buy one herself.

She gingerly fingers one cheerfully green leaf, twisting its rubbery petiole until it’s nearly flipped over before letting it go before it can tear.

Alia is part cold with low-ribbed anxiety and panic, part hot with embarrassment and a familiar desire from kinder times, and all fluttering up and down as if all her wires are knitting into tight knots.

She screws her eyes shut.

Among any of her past ghosts to reach her in the Hunters, it had to be _Dynamo._

_It’s only a coincidence. We don’t…we don’t mean anything to each other anymore. No, we never did in the first place._

A thoroughly exhausted, recharge-deprived Alia reaches a hand to her face and stomps down the urge to scream.    

 

* * *

 

Even though the human police have loaned a couple of their operators to the Hunters, it’s not enough. The human operators work in shorter shifts and the newly enlisted rookies still need to be taught and delegated. Amongst them are even fewer data-combers with the potential to become legitimate Navigators, but the rest can only stop to PSAP status.

Which ultimately leaves Alia as one of the few Senior Navigators who can effectively juggle multiple troops and Units. In fact, she’s the best.

Alia is the most competent and productive operator ever – the only one severely aware how bad the Hunters’ state is right now. So many Navigators were lost during the previous war and the Hunters are still reeling from the aftermath. The Council is still debating whether the Maverick Hunters are worth the trouble to bother tossing a budget for a new line of reploids to enter the forces, and no one outside of the Hunters is eager to take up the newly emptied job positions when they know how they got emptied in the first place. Alia is willing to go through an entire week with barely six hours of full recharge (absolutely ridiculous and extremely unhealthy, fritz, she _knows_ ) because she understands the Hunters don’t have options.

Basically, the Hunters need her. She’s not expendable. They won’t…no, they _can’t_ afford to lose her.

…Except the Maverick Hunters doesn’t spare anyone from their judgment and execution once they issue their sentence. Wasn’t Sigma’s Rebellion basically a civil war? Oh bolts, Alia can’t risk relying on her reliability to be forgiven if anyone finds out what she did.

Dynamo is undeniably a threat to her new life.

 _This is becoming unbearably stressful,_ Alia thinks darkly, huffing an exvent through her nose as she sits back into her desk chair. _It would be so much easier to just make him disa –_

It’s honestly just a stray thought. Careless. Anyone else can make that thought with less concern.

But Alia isn’t just anyone and so she’s struck with a crashing wave of remorse that hurts so bad it nearly chokes her. Her nimble and elegant hands are frozen above her keyboard and she wrenches her eyes shut. A noise born from a deep well of self-targeted frustration and regret strangles past her clenched teeth.

“I’m not a Maverick,” she whispers out to no one with a tremor. “I’m here now.”

Here with the Maverick Hunters who are good, courageous people who endlessly fight for a better, safer world. People who don’t compromise morality to complete directives or see the next reploid as a test subject. People who don’t engage in toxic competition and stomp each other down out of petty jealousy or social-scientific curiosity.

And Alia belongs to the Maverick Hunters. If she’s not a good person then she’s at least a better person than before.

This is why she didn’t want to see Dynamo. She doesn’t want to remember. She doesn’t want her past to catch up with her, doesn’t want any of her new friends to view her as someone horrible who deserves to be terminated - 

_Calm down. Stop being needlessly emotional for one second and assess. Damage control and working with whatever any given, awful set of circumstances is basically your primary directive. Besides, if he mentions anything, it’ll look like a poor attempt for distraction especially since he has nothing to show for it._

Because if there’s one thing Alia is certain about is that she had personally removed any digital paper trail connecting her to the old research team. Anyone from her past, dead or alive, can say anything about her and have very little evidence to back it. 

The former scientist continues perusing through Dynamo’s profile within the Maverick Hunters’ databanks, the soft blue glow of her computer reflecting on her features. The more she scrolls down, the deeper her frown grows.

His profile isn’t fleshed out.  

The Dynamo she knew was an underground “courier.” He delivered everything from illegal weapons to custom parts lifted off from fallen reploids who Alia still isn’t sure up to this day if he’s involved with anything behind them. 

But the Maverick Hunters basically have Dynamo categorized as a petty informant who may have conducted business with the wrong crowd but nothing's solid - which means the Hunters don’t know exactly who they’re dealing with. The latest report lists him as a bystander when the Elite Unit raided the Orprov Building down in Sector South-24 at Narpithe and Eighteenth.

Apparently Dynamo came with the Hunters instead of…well, run away. Letting anyone tie him down, metaphorically or literally, without a struggle is so uncharacteristic of him.

Maybe he changed?

Alia briefly recalls the whimsical mercenary blowing into her aural cone earlier and grimaces.

Not likely.

Alia finds herself mindlessly playing a strand of her hair, spilled over her aural cone from her usually uptight bun and stills. She pulls down her hand as if burned, cursing quietly.

 _I don’t care about him._ She bites her bottom lip. _Not one bit._

Alia has come way too far to let someone like Dynamo ruin this for her. He’s just someone she used to know, just like Gate and the rest of the team. They’re behind her. Chances are, Dynamo will give the Hunters what they want (or not, it’s not her business) and Alia will probably never see him ever again.

She tells this to herself over and over again until dawn peeks through her window.  

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Alia wishes she’s simple like a mechaniloid.

Mechaniloids exist to have a directive and execute it. They don’t have emotions and fatigue and all the other tedious complications that higher thinking people have to ache their day-to-day functioning.

And if they do anything wrong, it’s because of faulty programming, faulty orders, or faulty components. They’re purely innocent in any wrong they make.

So yes, Alia wants to be a mech because it’s already hard enough to be strenuously working with little sleep these days; she would rather go without the wholly unnecessary paranoia to sit on top of the albatross.

The next couple of days pass with little incident. No one has asked her questions, has summoned her to the Commander’s office or the questioning room, or requested her anything outside of her usual workload. Alia was beginning to let herself have an exvent of relief.

Then it flies out of the window of a high-rise and shatters at the bottom.

It starts one afternoon with the Seventeenth Unit Leader quietly calling for the Senior Navigator from the side of her console. Alia mouths,” One moment” to X, taking a quick survey to the Units under her care.

Hazard Unit and Ranger Unit are en-route smoothly. The Armored Unit is nearly completed setting up the defense perimeters at the energen mines and the Recon Unit is proceeding smoothly into the next stage of their operations. Alia can take a step back for now.

She tugs down her headset and faces X, indicating that he has her undivided attention.

The android in question is squirming, appearing suspiciously shy for someone who personally offlined a staggering number of Mavericks by himself.

“Dynamo insists that he’ll only share what he knows if it’s with you,” X says finally.

It takes everything then and there to _not_ demand what Dynamo has told him. The part of Alia that’s not spiraling down to panic, still running on higher cognitive functions, clinically notes that whatever Dynamo may have insinuated, it mustn’t have been much or else they’d be having a completely different conversation now.

Alia wrenches back a frustrated cry. Is it really too smelting much for wanting to start over?

Adopting a clinical tone she uses for panicking Hunters and reploids she operated on to force her core to calm down, Alia begins slowly. ”And exactly, what did he say to give you an idea that we’re anything close?”

Somehow, X pulls off a paradoxical expression that teeters between bashful amusement and an exasperated grimace. “Not much. He said he’s tired of seeing serious and boring Hunters all day and would rather talk to the most gorgeous gal in this building. His words, not mine,” X tacks at the end like an afterthought.

Alia had expected to hear anything but a passed on flirt and the reaction is immediate. Heat blooms across her cheeks, any of the articulate responses she had prepared for a thousand worst case scenarios tumble out in graceless spluttering and oh smelt her, this is completely unprofessional.

The blonde buries her face in her hands, barely suppressing a low moan. She’s trying, she’s really, _really_ trying to be a better person and doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t she deserve to _not_ get her circuits fried like this?

Ugh, Dynamo isn’t even here in person and he’s _still_ causing her processor to go fritzing haywire!

“This must be very uncomfortable for you,” says X apologetically.

“That’s an understatement,” Alia can’t help but reply, her voice muffled behind her fingers.

“I’m sorry that I have to ask this of you.”

“I can’t - ” Alia swallows, didn’t mean to respond - but even though they’re speaking in hushed tones, surrounded by the rest of the Command Center, everyone else immersed in their own individual tasks, there’s this yawning silence and she can’t take it. She crumbles with a sigh. “I can’t fault you for carrying out your job,” she finishes, tone tainted bitter.

“Still…no one wants to deal with their ex.”

 _My_ what?

Alia parts two fingers into a V over one eye, staring incredulously at X whose gaze is one of understanding, but for all the wrong reasons.

“My ex.” Alia says flatly because seriously, what? Dynamo is a lot of things, but an ex is _not_ one of them.

(Because being exes implies what they had was real and that was never the case. Dynamo isn’t committed to anyone else but himself and anything that serves that. Alia isn’t going to make that mistake ever again.)

X turns sheepish. “Dynamo may have let that slip.”

“He’s a former _acquaintance,_ ” Alia emphasizes in what she hopes to come across as cool, but sounds dangerously close to a weak denial. “He was one of the many delivery reploids who would drop off raw materials at my old factory. He came frequently enough that I invested some drive space to remember his name. That’s _it.”_

X’s doesn’t look convinced at all. If anything, he looks more sympathetic and Alia can’t blame him. She’s painting herself further as some scorned, past lover and rust it, fine. Fritzing fine. If that’s the story that Dynamo is selling and everyone else is buying it, so be it. Overall, it’s a better alternative even if it’s absolutely mortifying and Alia wants to crawl inside her recharge tube and never come out.

“Your factory…Alcore Industries, right? Specifically the Bethany Avenue branch,” says X slowly. “I’m sorry for what happened to it.”

Oh, so that’s what X is feeling sorry about.

Alia wrote down that location in her resume precisely because it went up in flames right when her lab crumbled down. The timing was coincidental and useful.

Also, people tend to not dig any deeper into tragedy, which suited Alia’s needs perfectly.

Right now it’s only making her feel worse, reminding her of how many layers of lies and omissions she has holed herself into. She looks away, a gesture that can be read as being upset from an outsider’s perspective when really, she can’t look at X’s sincerity for this blatant lie.

After a while, X speaks up again. “Anyways, that was Dynamo’s request for opening up. I know you probably don’t want to deal with him and that’s why it’ll mean so much if you do.”

Rubbed acid, Alia says coolly, “He’s detained. Accommodating to his fake comforts is an impediment. Why don’t you force the answers out of him? Isn’t this an obstruction to justice?”

“Not exactly. The only crime we can really pin on him is that he’s affiliated with some bad bots. He does have the right to remain silent. Unless…has he done something that you know of, Alia?”

_Oh fritz._

This is why this Dynamo’s presence is dangerous.

“Not at all. I know programming, but I’m not as well-versed with law. My apologies, sir.”  

Alia mentally backpedals, filled with remorse again. Dynamo is registered in the gray area between an oblivious accomplice and a low class criminal in the Hunters’ database. He hasn’t done anything that qualifies him to be termination-worthy in the Hunter’s eyes. He’s redeemable.

Alia blinks, reprocessing.

“The reason you want me to talk to him…are you trying to give him an opportunity to join us?” she asks with some incredulity.

X nods with a small smile. “I think that some kindness and persuasion can go a long way over than command.  It may seem naïve considering everything we’ve gone through…but I’ve given other people second chances before and they’ve worked out.”

Like Zero, the former insane Maverick turned amnesiac.

Of course. If the Hunters have given the Red Ripper a second chance, then isn’t it only reasonable they’d give others a chance too? Alia’s no longer in the lab anymore. She’s surrounded by decent people for once. She’s _allowed_ to have some faith in the reploids around her.

_Second chances. What would Dynamo do if he’s presented with one?_

Honestly, all Alia can come up with is a blank. Dynamo doesn’t seem to be the regretful type. The mercenary has the distractively shininess, slipperiness and integrity of liquid mercury. Goes with the flow like one too. He’s all cool and suave, money and self-preservation the only two concepts he allows to be wholly committed to. He can literally say and do whatever he wants without caring if it nukes a town as long as he’s not there to be involved with the fallout.

Rust, retrospectively fooling around with Dynamo is a pile of bad decisions.

Personally, Alia thinks that Dynamo hasn’t changed. Well. Who knows since they haven’t seen each other for a while, and it’s not like Alia was originally keeping close tabs on him anyway.

But maybe he wants an opportunity. Needs it perhaps. Could be the reason he came into the Hunters quietly.

“…can take your place as Navigator while you head to the questioning room?” finishes X.

Scrap, she wasn’t following.

Quickly replaying what the audio logs her aural cones processed, Alia hesitates. She glances back to her operator console and back to X.

The mercenary wants to see her and Alia wants to confirm where Dynamo is coming from; there’s really only one way to do this.

“This kind of fieldwork is not within my list of primary directives. I’m an operator and an equipment development researcher, not an interrogator. I can’t say how effective I’ll be handling him.”

“It’ll be better than me. For one, he likes you.”

Alia forces an exvent out of her nose. “Okay. What do you need to get out of Dynamo?”

“Anything he can tell us about the White Sarkits, but since he’s an informant…everything he knows.”

Five minutes later after receiving a rundown, Alia is on her way to the detention wing.


	2. Chapter 2

The interrogation room is as typical as it can get: partially sound-proofed walls, Spartan furniture, cameras and recorders tucked in hidden recesses, and a one-way observation mirror that acts as the main barrier between the observers and Dynamo.

The star of the show is physically chained – though the length is generous, Alia notes - to the bolted-in, steel desk that occupies the center of the room like an anchor, appearing as if he’s absolutely comfortable with everything ever. Considering that he’s being interviewed by the Zeroth Unit Leader, it speaks volumes of his confidence.

Greeting a Hunter on standby as she passes by the entrance, Alia strides up to the screen, managing to catch a tail end of the conversation from the other side.

“-is going to do with that much ammonium nitrate,” says Zero stonily, armed crossed. “They’re swapping through multiple lines and fronts to lose us, but we’ll track them down eventually. We’re going to find out so you might as well spill so we can stop wasting our time.”

“You call it wasting time, I call it taking my time since, y’know, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The ACPD have pictures of you talking to Tom Fullerman, one of the members of the Auto Bandits. You can’t deny relations when we have proof.”

“Proof of what? That I know some human outside of his sketchy side hustle? Sure you may have photos of me talking to someone, but we could have been talking about how his sister’s doing at school. You can’t declare me Maverick with something that weak.”

Dynamo leans back the best he can with an immovable chair. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m getting pretty cozy in here though…” he sniffs. “The sight can be better. No offense, but I have seen better blondes. I don’t think that wild cuckoo’s nest of wires you got back there can qualify being proper hair.”

Zero doesn’t twitch.

“Phew, aren’t you as cool as a cucumber. You must be fun at parties. Actually, I take that back. I can’t imagine someone like you being invited to one.”

“If you weren’t planning to cooperate, why did you turn yourself in?” cuts in Zero glaring, all attempts to provoke him bouncing off like BB pellets against cold ceratanium. ”What’s your goal? What do you want?”

“Turn myself in? I didn’t _turn_ myself in. That implies I did something incriminating. Naw, you guys just grabbed me because I was in the wrong building at the wrong time. I only complied going with you brutes because I know I did nothing wrong. You’ll have to let me go eventually.”

 _What an eel,_ Alia watches in reluctant awe. No wonder the Hunters were having trouble dealing with Dynamo.

“Even if I have the info you want, how do you expect me to trust such rough fellas like you Hunters if this is how you treat your…witnesses? That’s what the official report labeled me, right? What a shame.” Dynamo clicks his tongue. “In the end, it’s none of your guys’ business.”

“What if we give you an incentive?” Alia pipes in, opening the door to the questioning section.

The moment both mercenary and Hunter lay eyes on her: Dynamo’s mood instantly perks while Zero appears curious, glancing back and forth between the Senior Navigator and the captured reploid, searching for something.

Oh rust, the Hunters are the gossiping sort. It wouldn’t surprise Alia if X told Zero what the Blue Bomber knew. Hence the looks the Navigator is receiving from the Crimson Hunter.

Visibly perking up, Dynamo sits up straight from his previous, laid back lounge with a wolf’s smile. “Finally. Now _that’s_ a pretty blonde if I’ve ever seen one. Howdy doll.”

Alia leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “Hello Dynamo.”

“Smelt me, you shine up any room you’re in, Alia,” he says, practically purring out her name. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“That makes one of us. I can’t say that I’m happy to see my…ex,” she says with a judging scowl.

_I’ll play along with your silly game for now. If you don’t say anything, I won’t say anything. Let’s keep this simple._

Dynamo’s grin grows wider with unadulterated glee. If he’s trying not to outright laugh, he’s doing a very impressive attempt at it.

Before anyone else can say anything more, Zero stands up with an acknowledging nod towards Alia.

 _“I’ll be watching from the other side,”_ the Crimson Hunter transmits in radio. _“In case anything goes wrong.”_

 _“Understood,”_ Alia relays back. 

Alia takes a step to the side to let Zero walk out, and the door promptly slides shut behind her.

Leaving Alia with an old ghost made real.

 _Everything that’s happening in here is being observed,_ Alia reminds herself, gaze flitting to the tinted window for a millisecond. _I may be interviewing Dynamo, but I have to be careful too._

She’s currently worn out of her electronic brain, but that doesn’t make her any less of a Navigator. Undesirable circumstances, physically or verbally, she’ll find the best route and walk it.

All she can do in a situation like this is do her best.  

Suppressing a sigh, Alia legs to the other side of the table to sit across from the mercenary. Lightly examining the bot before her, she quips, “I see you’ve been doing well. You look different.”

“You mean I look better,” Dynamo smirks with an arrogant cock of his head. “It’s okay, don’t be shy. You’re allowed to compliment me.” He swishes his hair punctuate. “You can’t deny how good I look now.”

“Your plating is thicker yet sleeker,” the former reploid scientist notes instead, rolling over the other’s words. “You’ve made yourself more aerodynamic. Needing to run a lot lately?”

“Oh you know how it is.” Dynamo’s eyes glint. “World’s not a kind place. Best to prepare if something awful comes raining down. That’s all, doll.”

“And what kind of awful things do you prepare for?”

“Even simple informants like me can get into a scuffle every now and then. There’s some awful bots out there who want to shake me down for something I may or may not know.” Dynamo shoots a look at the tinted glass then. “I like to skedaddle and keep the plating on my back to function another day. It’s only smart.”

“If you really didn’t know anything, you could have just said so at the beginning. Instead, you’ve been baiting the Hunters that you claim to know something and say that you don’t the next minute.”

“Well how else was I going to get the opportunity to see you?”

Alia draws back, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Noticing, Dynamo winks. “Once I knew you were here, I had to somehow find a way to make this meeting happen.”

The mercenary slowly leans in, closing the distance between him and Alia a little. “Would have preferred catching up with you in a nicer joint than this one, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He leans his chin in the palm of his hand, leering. “Still, it’s worth it.”

Alia twitches, barely managing to stop herself from backing away. Dynamo smiles lopsidedly.

“I-I heard from X that you’ll spill if you see me,” Alia attempts to redirect this back to work. “Isn’t that an admission that you _do_ know something?”

“Nah, just means if I can answer, I can. Doesn’t necessarily mean I have the information you want.”

Alia’s jaw minutely clenches. “…Then I’ll start off with a couple questions and we’ll see if you can answer them or not. First one: you claimed that you weren’t aware of Fullerman’s involvement with the Auto Bandits. Despite so, do you know anything about the gang?”

“I heard they’re some minor street gang. All humans so I don’t look at them twice,” Dynamo says airily. “So X, huh? What’s _your_ relationship with X?”

_What?_

“What?” Alia says aloud, taken aback.

“What?” repeats Dynamo as if Alia’s surprise is surprising.  

Recovering, the blonde frowns. ”I’m the one asking the questions here, not you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, darling. It’s been so long since we’ve see each other.” Dynamo peers down at the nonexistent nails on his hand. Fritz, Alia almost forgot how dramatic this man is. “It’s not like I’m asking you for the encryption passwords to the Hunters’ database. I just want to know what you’re up to these days. Like, how’s your new job, new hobbies if you gain any, and…new friends?”

Something shutters over Dynamo’s face, but it quickly flickers away before Alia can study it. She’s left with a strange quirk to the mercenary’s lips.

Alia flinches. Silently curses for not having a better handle over her physical reactions right after.

Is this a threat? Is Dynamo threatening her with revealing knowledge about Gate? She’s not sure.

“Let’s make this simple then,” Alia says shakily, trying to bring this conversation back to subject. “You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours. That’s a fair trade, isn’t it?”

Dynamo shrugs. “Honestly? Not really. You see, you’re asking me questions that may breach the confidentiality I have with my clients – “

“Clients who are may or may not be on the Hunters’ wanted list,” Alia butts in sharply.

“- which you don’t have proof if I have relations with so it’s not really my problem,” Dynamo completes smoothly. “All I want is to ask questions on how _you’re_ doing, which I personally think shouldn’t cost you much.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Why? You’ve got something to hide?”

“Of course not!” Alia replies automatically, only to internally curse at herself again for getting riled up.

_This smelting pile of slag - !_

As an operator who deals with emergencies everyday, Alia has thick cables and can handle an ample variety of stressors.

Dynamo in his entirety is _not_ one of them.

Alia puts a firm brake at her thoughts. Closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them slowly. She locks her gaze with Dynamo’s, projecting as much sympathy as she can.

“You know the Hunters do believe in second chances,” the former reploid researcher whispers so quietly that any reploid needs to raise their aural settings to hear her. Surveillance may or may not pick her voice up.

She wrings her hands together under the table. “You don’t need to make this harder for us or for yourself. The Hunters…the Hunters have a protection program. And there’s job positions that can allow you to utilize your skill sets in a positive direction. Dynamo, you can…you can turn a new leaf.”

 _Rust, I’m not good at this,_ she thinks as another wave of heat crashes down on her.

Embarrassed, Alia has been looking down this entire time. When the silence stretches on for another minute, she dares to tilt her head up, looking from below her blonde bangs.

“Dynamo…?”

Dynamo is staring at her. No smile, no sneer, nothing. Twin pools of dark eyes scrutinizing her deeply as if _he’s_ the scientist. Visually dissecting her soul as if every atom is a fascinating mystery and he doesn’t want to stop, ever.

It makes Alia feel awful and flattered and self-conscious. The room is suddenly way too big for a gaze that powerful.

Then:

“Aww, you want to convince me to join the Hunters?” Dynamo breaks out, smirking and ruining everything ever like that’s his true designation. “You think you need to save lil’ old me from some real bad eggs. You’re too kind on me, sweetheart.”

Just as Alia’s core is about to fall into her compact tank, her transmitter sputters and Zero’s voice slices through, authoritative and calm.

 _“Alia, don’t move. Don’t respond,”_ Zero says right before Alia can raise her hand to her aural cone. ” _Don’t give away to Dynamo that I’m talking to you. We noticed something about Dynamo and we have an idea.”_

“But that’s where you guys have it wrong. I don’t need saving because no one’s after me.”

_“I’m going to come in and announce that you’re needed back into Command Center. Pretend that everything is normal. Also, don’t go bolts with what I’m going to do.”_

Okay, that’s slightly concerning, but Zero has never been less than professional and efficient in all his missions. Never wastefully used resources and never had a Hunter under his command fall. Alia can trust him. It doesn’t hurt to let someone else do the Navigating for her.

“I’m as clean as it gets. Just some guy who picks up gossip like no other,” Dynamo says loftily right when the Crimson Hunter opens the door.

“Alia, Commander Signas needs to see you,” says Zero thumbing over his shoulder. “He said you’re now allowed to miss the one-to-one.”

“I see,” Alia says slowly, rising at the same as Dynamo says,” Excuse me? One-to-one?”

Zero ignores the mercenary so Alia does the same. She walks towards the door and suddenly the red warbot raises a hand and cups her cheek. Alia stills.

“You seem tired,” Zero whispers with such never before seen softness and care that Alia restrains the urge to demand who is this reploid and what did he do with the real Zeroth Unit Leader. “After attending to Signas, I suggest you recharge.”

“What the rust?” Dynamo blurts out. “What’s going on here?”

Alia stiltedly turns back to the handcuffed reploid and flushes, confused and embarrassed because she’s starting have an inkling of what’s Zero’s so-called plan is and oh fritz, this is ridiculous, this is literally the stupidest thing Alia has ever come across with -

Zero drags his gaze to Dynamo as if the mercenary is an optic-sore. “It’s none of your business,” he echoes from earlier.

Then Zero’s face leans a few centimeters closer –

Things happen very quickly right after that.

 

* * *

 

“An innocent informant, yeah right,” scoffs Zero derisively later after Dynamo was taken back to his cell. He idly touches his upper arm where Dynamo seized him before the other Hunters poured into the interrogation room.

X sends an exasperated glare at the other Unit Leader before turning to a dazed Alia, sympathetic. “I’m really sorry for that. If we told you we wanted to make Dynamo jealous, you may become too flushed to act properly and give the plan away.”

“Or not agree to it at all,” Zero adds. He crosses his arms. “So he _was_ acting through the RP tests. The kind of strength and speed he displayed can rank him up there on combatdroid levels.”

X nods. “We’ll put him in a stronger cell. Alia, what did he say to you before we pulled you out?”

The operator closes her eyes, exhausted. She’s always exhausted. She really needs to defrag.

“’If you come see me alone tonight, I’ll tell you something interesting,’” she repeats blankly. Dynamo was so close to her face in the middle of the descending chaos. “’Take care of surveillance. If anything’s recording, I’ll know and I won’t talk.’”

“What does he mean he’ll know? Does he have IR detection?” X muses aloud. “That’s impressive equipment…”

“You’re going,” Zero orders bluntly.

The Blue Bomber hisses back, “Zero, that’s not your authority to make! Besides, Alia is an operator, not part of the Recon Unit – this can be dangerous for her. Let her make the choice.”

“It’s going to be easy. She won’t be in danger. We’ll be on standby.”

“That ruins the entire point! Dynamo clearly doesn’t trust us otherwise he would have – “

“He can’t possibly expect we’ll seriously let one of our own in the cell with him alone. And don’t be naïve, X - we don’t have a guarantee that he’s going to say anything relevant and what if he does something to her?”

“I have a feeling that she’s going to be fine. When I looked over the recordings…I don’t think he’ll do anything out of line. He seems to trust her and I want to take a chance in that.”

_Trust, huh._

“I’ll do it,” says Alia in a tone she doesn’t recognize. Both Unit Leaders turn to her. “And no surveillance. Just in case.”

X opens his mouth, probably to protest, but the words die in his throat at Alia’s determined expression.

“X, if you trust me,” Alia starts quietly, curled fists by her side. “You let me do this. For the Hunters.”

“…Okay,” the Mega Man says simply. “I trust you.”

 

* * *

 

Technically the Maverick Hunters’ surveillance equipment don’t wholly belong to the organization.

The Council doesn’t trust the Hunters to be completely independent ever since Sigma’s Rebellion. A unique situation in which there are people watching the watchers. However, working around it doesn’t take much effort. Alia can do it all by herself.

So she does. As Senior Navigator, Alia has easy access and understanding on the Maverick Hunters’ internal equipment. Combined with her abundant programming knowledge, it takes ten minute tops to tweak the cameras in the detention branch so that they’re replaying old footage for the next couple of hours. She has communication sequences to every Hunter in the building in case anything goes wrong, but she’s confident they won’t be used.

Dynamo has ascertained several things for her today.

When Alia comes by the other reploids’ cell, the mercenary is lazing down on a flat recharge mat (designed to not provide full rest), forearms bound in a thick, rigid block. He’s positioned in a way that he’d have his hands folded behind his helm if he could.

Eyes twinkling in the dark, Dynamo sits up fully, his way of taking off a hat to greet her. “Welcome back, doll.”

It’s different talking to him like this. Just the two of them in this poor lighting, without anything recording in a building where almost everything is being recorded. Completely private and intimate. It echoes back to memories that stirs up to the surface that has Alia’s core thrumming rapidly.

“You have something to say to me,” she says.

“I do. Come inside. These bars are in the way of my view,” Dynamo smiles.

Alia hesitates and Dynamo sighs. He tosses his head back so his hair can fly back over his shoulder.

“The Auto Bandits aren’t anything yet,” he says and Alia’s eyes widen. “They recently started making connections with the Brabrian cartel and they’re attempting to recruit reploids to it. It just so happens that the bots they approached have ties to the Siren Helms and the White Sarkits.”

_Reploids. White Sarkits. Which transfers it from ACPD jurisdiction to ours._

“So you did know something!” Alia accuses hotly, instantly recognizing the notorious names of some of the major organizations in the reploid underground.

“And I know a lot more but that’s all you’re going to get if I have to keep talking to you outside of this dingy cage. I worked hard to see you face-to-face.” Playfully, Dynamo pouts out his bottom lip. “Throw a dog a bone, will you?”

After a brief internal struggle, Alia finally inputs the code to the cell and walks in, hastily closing it behind her. Dynamo stands up and she takes a step back.

“Aw, there’s no need for that,” Dynamo says staying firmly in place, cuffed hands up and splayed open innocently. “It’s only you and me here. No other…” he wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Annoying Hunter in the way. Ugh, why are there so many _men_ in this building?”

“Are you dealing with the White Sarkits?” Alia snaps, redirecting the conversation back on topic. “Did they provide you your upgrades?”

Dynamo tilts his head. “And what if they did?”

“They upped the bounty on the Commander Signas’ head recently,” Alia provides tersely. “They’re becoming aggressive.”

“They’re not the only ones. I can list eight organizations from the top of my processor who wants to see the Maverick Hunters crumbling down,” Dynamo points out. “You’re not running with a very popular herd, dear.” 

He’s not wrong. The Hunters who are used to receiving death threats, bounties, and planned attacks on a daily basis like a newspaper subscription. But the Hunters can handle having their faces pasted on the metaphorical dart boards.

“Everything,” Alia whispers. “Give me everything you know. Names, routes, plans – “

“Whoa whoa whoa, what’s the big hurry? We’ve got all night.”

Alia glares. “No. You do, but I don’t. I’m busy. If this isn’t so important, I’d be recharging right now.”

“No, you’d be working instead of spending time with me,” Dynamo retorts. “The Hunters have been working you too hard, haven’t they? I can tell. You look as stressed as you did before Gate’s lab burned.”

Oh rust.

Hearing Gate’s name spoken aloud is like being thrown into a vat of nitrogen. Alia freezes up. Dynamo is moving closer and she’s not moving at all.

“They’re not treating you the way you deserve,” Dynamo whispers when he’s only a couple centimeters away. “No one ever does.”

“Don’t act like you care,” Alia hisses.

“Alia, I literally let myself get caught by the Hunters to see you.”

Alia huffs, unconvinced. “You sound like you had a choice whether to be brought in or not. You were up against _X’s_ unit. I read the report. You didn’t dare fight or run from him.”

Up to this point the mercenary’s smile appeared as if it’s plastered artificially over his lips like an unhappy default setting. Dynamo drops it entirely, eyes narrowing.

The block that bonded his hands together unceremoniously falls to the floor with twin resounding thuds and Alia stares uncomprehendingly at the floor even as Dynamo wiggles his free fingers.

“I could have gotten out earlier, but then I wouldn’t be talking to you,” says Dynamo smugly, brows waggling. “The Maverick Hunters security isn’t all that cracked up to be.” More soberly, he says,” You should leave. You’re worth more than every bot in the Hunters put together.”

“You think that you can flatter me into leaving?” says Alia but Dynamo is crowding her to the wall and her compact tank is swirling.

“I’m giving you a heads-up. I wasn’t kidding when I said the Hunters weren’t popular, underground or above ground. Four wars in the past half-decade and they’ve been involved with every single one of them. With that kind of reputation, no properly functioning bot wants to ride with them. You’re dancing in oil.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Alia hisses back. “It’s a dangerous job but someone has to do it. The Hunters are good people. They’re risking their lives to do the right thing.”

“Life is so short, who cares,” Dynamo says back easily enough. “Gonna be real honest with you – I don’t understand why your wires are so crossed over this. Being a goody two-shoes is overrated when it doesn’t pay. You were pretty ruthless before. Looked lovely while at it too.”

“I didn’t know better!” Alia shouts. She looks down. “I didn’t…I wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone! We were researching to improve reploids to _help_ them. What I did was against my directive. I’m better now, I’m not a Maverick, I’m…” she trails off, aching.

“Oh come on,” Dynamo says after a beat. “I didn’t want you to come here just to rub acid on you, dollface.”

“Oh really?” Alia snarks, glaring. “Then what did you have in mind?”

Dynamo leers and in hindsight, Alia really has herself to blame for walking into what happens next.

The mercenary slams one hand by the side of Alia’s face, cups her cheek with his other one, and kisses her.

His lips are soft and warm and Alia forces herself to raise a hand to smack the mercenary because if she doesn’t she’s going to fall for this again – but Dynamo has already seized her wrist. Not tightly. Just enough that the kiss can linger uninterrupted for another second.

He parts away, licking his lips. “With surveillance off, you don’t need to pretend you don’t want this.”

Alia surges, indignant fury at her tongue but Dynamo swoops back in, swallowing it up. She feels his tongue teasing at her lips and she opens up and Dynamo’s tongue is snaking in, massaging against hers.

His hands are gliding up and down on her sides, ghosting closely to her chest, teasing at the edges of her external plating.

“I always liked your hair,” Dynamo confesses quietly, voice muffled in her neck. Her blonde locks spilling out from its uptight bun under his plying fingers. “You look so sweet like this. It’s good you keep it up or else the Hunters wouldn’t keep their filthy paws off of you.”

“Sh-shut up,” she moans out, a little broken. Tears are beading at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t understand you. We didn’t have anything special. I was stressed and you offered and that’s all it was back then.” They just didn’t stop at once or twice, but repetition doesn’t necessarily mean anything significant. “Why are you even bothering like any of that mattered? Why are you here?”

“It did matter,” Dynamo shoots back lowly. “You just don’t want it to be because you want to be done with everything related to before. Can’t blame you considering what a spectacular oil spill Gate was at the end. But newsflash, love: I’m not done with you.”

Dynamo is tugging her closer to him in a firm, possessive grip, pressing himself in all the empty spaces in between her curves. They spent so much time apart that it shouldn’t be this smooth and easy to fall in together like this.

Alia’s entire body is giving up and giving in. 

It’s good, it’s so good, and she’s starting to forget why this is a bad idea. In fact, she can list more reasons why not going any further is bad idea as Dynamo grunts above her when she latches onto his neck. Dynamo is sliding a hand down her waist and to her thigh, hooking under it and raising it, encouraging her to wrap one leg around his hips. Spreading herself wider for him and she does, arching her back, rocking her hips upwards, drinking in Dynamo’s noises.

She’s been exhausted, stressed, wound tight and high-key - breaking down little by little for weeks and Dynamo is literally holding her up and Alia _needs_ this.

The blonde feels a hand sneak in between her thighs and she openly moans. Dynamo is caressing her gently, one finger rubbing the front and back against the soft line between her folds underneath her skin suit. Alia moans, clutches onto Dynamo’s shoulders tightly.

“Good thing the surveillance is off,” he says, voice dripping honey into her hair. “No one deserves to see you like this. Fritz, you’re beautiful. You were always the shiniest thing around.”

Alia must be short-circuiting out of her processor or her filtering subroutine must have knocked out because she’s whimpering,” Stay with me, Dynamo. You can turn a new leaf.”

_You can be with me again._

Alia startles when she feels cold air hitting her belly – of course, they’ve done this enough times before that Dynamo knows his way around her design – and the other reploid ducks down abruptly, nipping at her exposed body. He trails down languidly and Alia jerks violently, reflexively clawing into Dynamo’s helmet as she sobs aloud. He’s lavishing her with attention that’s borderline worshipful and every single power distributor in her is overcharged, blazing.

“I want to feel you, let me feel you, Alia,” says Dynamo and she chants “yes, yes, yes” feverishly like a broken drone. They’re scrambling, peeling away the parts that don’t matter. She’s tilting her hips upwards, flushed and ready, and it’s almost embarrassing how easily Dynamo slides in but then he’s moving and she forgets to care about that too.

“You were lying before weren’t you,” Dynamo says raggedly, thrusting into her, filling her and Alia squeezes her thighs tightly, wanting, needing more. “No one else had you before me and no one else did after _me._ X, Zero, Signas – every rusting reploid, they never saw you like this, right darling? _”_

He drags his head across her neck, licking, biting, nibbling into the sensitive cables and Alia mewls, weakly bobbing her head up and down, can’t trust herself to speak coherently.

Dynamo can’t seem to stop talking, his voice around her, in her. “I looked up your name once. Means sublime and it’s so perfect for you, sweetheart. We’re perfect together. Everyone is always out to use you but I won’t do that to you. Life is so short, run away with me. Dance with me until we expire.”

Alia doesn’t say anything even though it’s tempting because everything about Dynamo has been stupidly tempting. He’s the pure embodiment of a life that gives no rust for anyone and anything ever. No regrets, just wild freedom.

Except the Hunter’s Navigator grabs the back of Dynamo helmet for another deep kiss. Her thin, nimble fingers place a bug in a thin crevice on the underside of his helmet fin.

Because that’s the problem with Dynamo. He’s such a tempting thing but he can’t be trusted. No one from Alia’s old life can be.

So Alia cries, losing herself into the sensation, the molten heat, and rides along the waves of pleasure until she goes higher and higher. She whites out.

 

* * *

 

Not sleeping properly for weeks really rusted her over.

Alia wakes up in Medbay after recharging for eighteen hours straight and she still feels dazed and gritty, her insides curling over themselves in bitterness. She’s informed by a Lifesaver that she was found sleeping on Dynamo’s mat with the mercenary nowhere in sight. At least he was kind enough to clean her up. Bolts, the Navigator wouldn’t have handled the resulting humiliation if anyone witnessed how she gave in control.

Of course Dynamo ran away again. Alia didn’t predict the sex, but she at least predicted that. It’s so typical of the mercenary.

The Navigator strides up to the Commander’s office with a datapad and slides it across Signas’ desk. “I’m not sure how long it’ll take for Dynamo to realize his movements are being tracked so I recommend that we don’t closely follow him. He’ll notice. I already ordered the other Navigators to look into the history of his routes. I’ll have the recon mechs arranged.”

Signas looks down at the datapad and back at Alia.

“Are you okay, Alia?” he asks.

The blonde smile weakly. “I’ll take another e-tank soon.”

“I did order you to go recharge before you did this. I appreciate it, but I am concerned for your wellbeing.”

“I recharged enough.”

“A little more wouldn’t hurt. Go sleep a bit more. I promise I’ll alert you if there’s a job that requires your specific attention.”

“…Thank you, sir.”

Alia closes the door behind her. She looks at the small piece of crumbled paper that she’s been carrying since she felt it tucked underneath her chassis. What an inappropriate and bold place for Dynamo to put it, but Alia is more surprised that someone on this day and age is carrying something like paper on their person.

She unfolds it for a hundredth time.

_“Alia, I’m going to kidnap you one day. Be prepared, darling.”_

And for the hundredth time, Alia fails to throw it away.

**Author's Note:**

> The problem with real life stuff is that I would put down an outline, fill out some story, have to leave it because I have to prepare moving to another freaking country, come back to the fic, and have more ideas and it gets longer.  
> In short, this fic, which was initially a oneshot, is not split to two chapters OTL


End file.
